As Strong As We Are United
by Winky and Dobby
Summary: Post-GoF story. The Weasleys help Harry come to terms with the events of last year and prepare to face the future.
1. Owl Post

AS STRONG AS WE ARE UNITED A Harry Potter fanfic by Winky  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.  
  
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.  
  
CHAPTER ONE: OWL POST  
  
Harry set down his quill with a sigh. The dull throbbing in his forehead was making it impossible to concentrate. He closed IDefense Against the Dark Arts, Vol. IVI and put aside his notes. Chapter Twelve would have to wait.  
  
Harry was quite used to headaches now. His scar had been bothering him almost constantly since the end of term at Hogwarts, sometimes only a vague prick, sometimes a blinding stab of heat. It had worried him a great deal at first-after all, his scar's hurting usually meant Voldemort was either nearby or feeling particularly murderous. But as the summer dragged on without event, Harry began to accept his headaches as yet another unpleasant result of the Dark Lord's return.  
  
For Harry the worst part of Voldemort's being back was having to spend the summer at the Dursleys' again. He didn't mind that his aunt and uncle despised and resented him and only put up with him out of fear. It didn't bother him that the whole family did their best to pretend he didn't exist. He could even tolerate Uncle Vernon's face turning purple with suppressed rage at the slightest reminder of his nephew's "abnormality." But if there was one thing Harry couldn't stand, it was doing nothing while Voldemort grew stronger each day. More than anything in the world, he wanted to be back at Hogwarts helping Dumbledore gather the forces of light, not trapped in his room memorizing spells he couldn't even practice.  
  
With another sigh Harry crossed the room and threw open his window to scan the night sky, hoping for an owl from one of his friends. Ron and Hermione had been writing him almost daily all summer to keep him informed of events in the wizarding world. Unfortunately, neither one could tell him much more than he knew already. According to Hermione, IThe Daily ProphetI was "still carrying on as if nothing had happened." Ron wrote that both his father and brother were gone more often than not on official Ministry business, but for once even boastful Percy refused to talk about it. Hagrid and Sirius were equally secretive in the few letters Harry had received from them, and he was left feeling more isolated and confused than ever.  
  
It was a clear night, thousands of stars glittering above the darkened houses of Privet Drive. Not for the first time Harry's gaze wandered in the direction of old Mrs. Figg's house, and Dumbledore's instructions to Sirius came back to him again. IYou are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher-the old crowdI, he had said. Was it possible that the eccentric old lady who had bored Harry with cat pictures and stale cakes was actually a witch, perhaps sent by Dumbledore himself to watch over the orphaned son of Lily and James Potter? Maybe he was imagining things, but it seemed to Harry that Mrs. Figg's house had been uncustomarily quiet that summer, as if its occupants were away. With sudden purpose Harry decided to write to Hermione, who would doubtless jump at the chance to do research. Harry grinned. There were definite advantages to being best friends with the cleverest witch in his year.  
  
When Harry finished his letter he folded up the parchment and set it aside to send when Hedwig returned from delivering his latest note to Hagrid. It was quite late, he realized with a jolt as his eyes fell on the clock beside the bed. In fact, it was two o'clock in the morning, and today was his fifteenth birthday. Something akin to triumph flickered in Harry's stomach. Well, he thought with a small smile, I made it for another year.  
  
Just then Harry heard a familiar fluttering sound and turned to see Hedwig swooping through the window. She dropped a small parcel onto the bed, gave Harry's ear an affectionate nip, and alighted on top of her cage to preen.   
  
"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry smiled, moving to close the window, and-SQUEAK! Harry jumped back in time to see a tiny ball of feathers hovering frantically just below the sill. "Pigwidgeon!" The large package he was carrying was apparently too heavy for the little owl to lift any higher. Harry quickly reached down to pull Pig into the room and untie his burden, and the miniscule bird flopped onto the bed with a grateful chirp. Behind him, Hedwig hooted disdainfully while ruffling her feathers.  
  
Harry sat down and picked up the first package. Inside were a folded piece of parchment and what looked like some sort of pastry. Harry unfolded the note and read:  
  
IDear Harry,  
  
Happy Birthday! Olympe thought you might want to try this éclair instead of treacle fudge. Hope you like it. We've been very busy-I think Dumbledore's plan might just work. Can't say no more here, though. See you soon!  
  
All the best,  
  
HagridI  
  
Harry munched thoughtfully on the chocolatey pastry. He, Ron, and Hermione were convinced that Dumbledore had sent Hagrid and Madame Maxine to the mountains as envoys to the giants, but once again the friendly groundskeeper wasn't giving anything away. Harry crammed the rest of the éclair into his mouth and began unwrapping Pig's package. To his surprise, three smaller parcels fell out along with several parchment notes. Harry reached for the letter closest to him and recognized Hermione's neat handwriting.  
  
IDear Harry,  
  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! You're probably going to laugh at me, but I thought this might be something you'd actually want to readI.  
  
Curious, Harry put down the letter and picked up a thin rectangular package. He tore off the wrapping to see a leather-bound volume entitled IWizard-Giant Relations Since the Twelfth Century: A HistoryI. Normally Harry would rather have eaten bubotuber pus than read something with a title that boring, but just now he thought Hermione had given him the perfect gift. With a smile he picked up her letter again.  
  
II still don't have any news for you, but I think Ron heard something that will make you happy. I'm sure he'll tell you in his letter.  
  
Harry, I've had a letter from Viktor and he wanted me to say hello from him. He says he'd like to visit Hogwarts again soon and watch you play Quidditch sometime. I think that's a very nice compliment, don't you?  
  
Ron's sending Pig to pick up your present so I better finish here. I hope the Dursleys are treating you decently this time. I'll see you in a few weeks!  
  
Love from,  
  
HermioneI  
  
Harry reached eagerly for Ron's letter, smiling at the familiar messy scrawl.  
  
IDear Harry,  
  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Hermione told me what she got you, and I thought you'd deserve this afterwardsI.  
  
Harry opened the smaller rectangle, another book, and turned it over, a huge grin spreading across his face. On the cover tiny figures in colorful Quidditch robes dove wildly after miniature winged balls beneath gold lettering that spelled out ISeeker Secrets and Strategies, An Illustrated GuideI. "Wow, Ron!" Harry breathed. He watched the zooming figures happily for a minute before resuming his best friend's letter.  
  
II also have some news that might cheer you up. Dumbledore gave Mum permission to invite you to stay for a while! You can come the week before term starts and get all your things for school. Hermione says we can use the extra time to get ahead, and she's already promised to teach Ginny some fourth year spells. What a surprise.  
  
Did she tell you what Krum said about coming to watch you play Quidditch? She's been writing him all summer in Bulgaria. I wonder what she finds to talk about-she doesn't know a thing about Quidditch. I've been practicing a lot with the twins and they want me to try out for Keeper now that Wood's gone. What do you reckon? We'll have to play when you come and you can tell me if I'm any good.  
  
We can come get you on Sunday like before, only Dad reckons we shouldn't use Floo powder anymore. He never did say what happened after we left last time-must have been pretty bad. Anyway, what do you think?  
  
Don't let the Muggles get you down!  
  
See you soon!  
  
RonI  
  
Harry frowned and started to fold up the letter. Obviously the best way for him to get to the Burrow was a Portkey, but Ron had clearly thought it wiser not to suggest this. Harry, though, could see no point in avoiding Portkeys, mazes, or graveyards just because they might remind him of something painful.   
  
Harry collected his gifts and placed them on top of his trunk, then scribbled a quick thank-you note to each of his friends, along with the suggestion to Ron about the Portkey. He was just pulling back the covers when he heard something hit the floor.  
  
He had forgotten about the third parcel. Bending down to pick up the small, neatly-wrapped square, he wondered if Mrs. Weasley had baked him some more sweets, but the present was not food. Instead Harry found himself staring at a photo of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, enclosed in a thin frame of polished wood. He blinked as the miniature version of himself was hoisted into the air by a sobbing Oliver Wood clutching the Quidditch Cup, while Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid beamed in the background and pointed at Professor McGonagall, who was blowing her nose on a scarlet banner. It had been one of the happiest moments of his life.  
  
Hastily Harry cast about for the last piece of parchment until he found where it had fallen off the bed. The tidy handwriting was one he didn't recognize. Harry shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and read:  
  
IDear Harry,  
  
Happy Birthday! Ron says you don't own many wizard photos, but you ought to have this one. You must really be missing Quidditch by now.  
  
Harry, do you remember how Ron agreed to bury the remains of your broom for you after it blew into the Whomping Willow? Well, he never did. He and Hermione were going to try to fix it for you as a present, but it didn't work, and then you got the Firebolt anyway. Ron still had the pieces, though, so I hope it's all right that I made them into this frame. It seemed like such a waste otherwise.  
  
I'm glad Dumbledore is letting you come. The Dursleys sound horrid, and Ron really wants your opinion about trying out for Keeper. I hope he makes it-it would mean so much to him.   
  
Have a nice birthday, and we'll see you in a few weeks!  
  
GinnyI  
  
Harry held the frame closer to the lamp and peered at it intently. Sure enough, the bold lettering of the Nimbus Two Thousand label shone plainly against the sleek wood along one side of the frame. Harry ran his fingers over the smooth edges and let out a low whistle of amazement. It was like having an old friend returned to him. He put the frame on his bedside table and crawled under the covers. In the morning he would write to Ginny and thank her, but for now he lay with his head turned towards the photo, listening to the soft hoots of Pig and Hedwig as he fell asleep.   
  
  
Author's Note: In the next chapter, Harry goes to the Burrow, where Bill and Charlie make an appearance. As always, feedback is much appreciated.  
  



	2. Back to the Burrow

AS STRONG AS WE ARE UNITED A Harry Potter fanfic by Winky  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.  
  
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.  
  
  
CHAPTER TWO: BACK TO THE BURROW  
  
The next three weeks seemed to drag endlessly, and Harry was very grateful for his new books to help pass the time. He also managed to memorize the entire book of Defense Against the Dark Arts fourth-level spells and couldn't resist writing rather smugly about it to Hermione. She, on the contrary, had not been successful in finding out anything more about the mysterious Arabella Figg, and wrote Harry that they would have to wait until she had access to her precious Hogwarts library again. Harry had briefly considered asking Sirius, but his godfather was obviously very busy and he didn't want to bother him with silly questions. Harry hadn't heard from Sirius since his birthday, when he had received some assorted treats from Honeydukes and a bag of tricks from Zonkos.  
  
By the time the Sunday before term finally arrived, Harry was positively beside himself with impatience. He had packed everything into his trunk the night before and was planning on hiding in his room until Ron arrived, in case Aunt Petunia got the idea of putting him to work around the house. Harry was so anxious to be back among friends that he could hardly sit still at breakfast. He wolfed down his toast with record speed, stood up from the table, and cleared his throat.  
  
Uncle Vernon lowered the paper and glared at him over the top of it. Aunt Petunia stopped chewing and looked up. Dudley, however, continued shoveling huge forkfuls of eggs into his fleshy face.  
  
"I'm leaving today," Harry announced, "and I don't know if I'm ever coming back. I just thought you should know."  
  
Dudley dropped his fork. His great fat head swiveled slowly around, giving Harry a revolting view of the contents of his open mouth. Uncle Vernon's eyes flicked across the table to meet Aunt Petunia's gaze, then snapped back to rest beadily on Harry.  
  
"My friend Ron is coming to pick me up at noon. He won't be using the fireplace this time," Harry added quickly as Uncle Vernon glanced apprehensively towards the living room. "He's coming by Portkey." Clearly none of the Dursleys had the faintest idea what a "Portkey" was, although the frightened looks on their faces told Harry they suspected it was something extremely dangerous to their personal welfare. He sighed. "You won't even have to see it," Harry reassured them. "Ron's porting directly to my room and we're leaving from there."  
  
The Dursleys all continued to stare at Harry without saying anything, although Uncle Vernon's face was gradually turning an interesting shade of puce and Aunt Petunia's eyes had acquired a sort of manic gleam. Apparently the concept of people entering and leaving the house by some mysterious, not to mention highly abnormal, means of transportation was too much to process on top of the prospect of being permanently rid of their freakish nephew.  
  
"Well, then," said Harry, "see you." And he went upstairs and shut the door without another word. He imagined that the Dursleys were probably doing a celebratory dance around the kitchen table, but Harry didn't care. He wouldn't have to see any of them again for another whole year, if at all. That blissful thought was enough to make Harry do a little dance of his own, and he spent the rest of the morning daydreaming about living with Sirius instead.  
  
At twelve o'clock Harry stood ready in the middle of the room, Hedwig and his trunk at his side. He didn't have to wait long. The clock had just chimed the last stroke of noon when there was a loud whooshing noise and a tall, redheaded boy appeared suddenly next to Harry.  
  
"Ron!" Harry grinned, clapping his friend on the back.   
  
"Hi, Harry," Ron grinned back. "How was your last day as a Muggle?"  
  
"Long," said Harry. "Let's get out of here."  
  
"What?" Ron feigned disbelief. "No emotional farewells for your excellent cousin? Right cold of you, that is, Harry."  
  
Harry snorted. "Too bad Fred and George aren't here to take care of that for me. They'd give him a farewell all right."  
  
"Well," said Ron slowly, "the twins were rather crushed Dad wouldn't let them come." His mouth stretched into a devious smile and he winked conspiratorially at Harry. "'Course, they'd feel a lot better knowing I IaccidentallyI dropped this in your room."   
  
Harry leaned over to inspect the colorfully-wrapped piece of candy in Ron's palm. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, eh?" he grinned. "What's it do?"  
  
"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "Fred promised it wouldn't hurt poor Duddikins, though." He smirked and lobbed the shiny morsel towards the door, where snooping eyes were sure to spot it. "George said he'd tell us when we get home."  
  
"Let's go, then," said Harry, grabbing hold of his trunk in one hand and putting Hedwig's cage under his arm. "I'm past ready."  
  
"Right," Ron nodded and took the other trunk handle, stretching out his hand so Harry could reach the old plug it contained. Harry had a final glimpse of his empty room before he felt the familiar tug behind his navel, and then he was pitching face-forward towards the floor of the Weasleys' living room.  
  
"All right there, Harry?" Fred grinned from his left, pulling him up by the shoulders.   
  
"Thanks," Harry smiled back. It looked like Fred was about to ask about the candy, but just then Mrs. Weasley's head poked out of the kitchen.  
  
"Is that Harry?"  
  
"We'll take your stuff up to Ron's room," George offered quickly as his mother hurried over. With a wink over his shoulder at Harry he disappeared upstairs with Fred.   
  
"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry smiled fondly at the plump woman who came to hug him. "Thank you for inviting me again."  
  
Mrs. Weasley's eyes looked suspiciously moist as she patted his shoulder kindly. "It's our pleasure, dear. I only wish you could have come sooner." She sighed and peered closely at Harry. "Did those awful Dursleys treat you decently this time?" she demanded, her tone implying that she thought them rather incapable of doing so.  
  
Harry shrugged. "They were all right," he answered, exchanging a quick smile with Ron. "But I'm glad Dumbledore let me come."  
  
Mrs. Weasley's eyes were misty again. "So are we. Well," she clapped her hands together briskly and looked at Ron, "why don't you take Harry to get settled while I finish making lunch?" She turned and headed back to the kitchen. "Hermione should be here any minute, too."  
  
"Oh, is she coming by Portkey?" Harry asked Ron.  
  
Ron shook his head. "Floo powder. She says her parents think it's interesting how she disappears into the fireplace." He pulled a face at Harry. "Weird."   
  
Harry laughed. That did sound like something Hermione would say. "What time's she coming?"  
  
"Oh, she should be here in a couple of minutes," Ron answered vaguely, but Harry noticed that he kept looking at his watch. "We better wait and see if she needs help getting her trunk upstairs. You know she probably brought heaps of books," Ron said, rolling his eyes.   
  
Harry hid a smile. He knew full well that wasn't why Ron wanted to stay downstairs. He thought it best not to say so, though, and decided to ask Ron about Quidditch instead. They were planning a practice game for the afternoon when Harry heard someone coming down the stairs and looked round to see who it was.  
  
"Hello, Harry," said Ginny from the doorway, smiling shyly.  
  
"Hi, Ginny," Harry smiled back, and for once she didn't flush beneath his gaze. She looked different than he remembered, though he couldn't put his finger on the change. "Did you get my note about the frame?" he asked.  
  
Ginny nodded. "I'm glad you liked it." She glanced over at her brother, who was fidgeting with a vase on the mantel, and shrugged. "Ron wasn't sure you would."  
  
"No, I did like it-a lot," said Harry fervently. "Thank you."  
  
A wide smile brightened Ginny's face. "You're welcome." She left the doorway and flopped into a chair by the fireplace. "Did you have a nice birthday, then?"   
  
"Mostly," said Harry. "The Dursleys aren't the greatest company ("Ha!" snorted Ron), but I got some really nice presents. Hagrid sent me a French pastry-an icklear, or something like that. Have you ever had one of those?"  
  
Ginny started to shake her head, but whatever she was about to say was drowned out by a loud pop. An instant later Hermione came tumbling out of the fireplace and into Ron, who was standing directly in front of it.  
  
"Oof!" said Ron, staggering backwards as Crookshanks and Hermione's trunk pelted into him as well.  
  
"Oh, sorry!" cried Hermione, trying to disentangle herself from Ron. "I forgot how hard it is to stop at the right fireplace." She straightened and pulled her clothes back into place with an apologetic smile.  
  
Ron was rubbing his stomach where the trunk had knocked into him. "Geez, Hermione," he grumbled irritably, "what do you have in that thing?" He looked away from the trunk to glare at Hermione, and Harry saw a flicker of surprise cross his face.  
  
Hermione had grown a little over the summer, though she was still shorter than Ron by at least a head, and she was very tan. Her hair, which was normally rather bushy, had been pulled away from her face in some kind of odd ponytail. Harry thought she looked older, especially when she turned to say airily to Ron, "Nothing, Ron. Just my clothes and a few books."  
  
"I knew it!" cried Ron triumphantly, pointing at Harry. "Didn't I?" He appeared to have gotten over the shock of Hermione's appearance.  
  
"Hi, Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring Ron, and came over to give Harry a hug. "I'm glad you could come."  
  
"Me, too," Harry smiled back as she moved to hug Ginny as well.  
  
Harry and Ron politely volunteered to carry Hermione's trunk and followed the girls upstairs to Ginny's room. Harry could hear Ron muttering various comments about Hermione's obsession for books as they plodded up the rickety staircase, but luckily she was talking to Ginny and didn't hear them.  
  
"I like your hair that way," Ginny was telling Hermione. "How'd you do it?"  
  
"Oh, well--it's really easy," Hermione answered. "It's called a French braid, and I learned it from a Muggle book my mum gave me. I can teach you if you want."  
  
Ginny's eyes lit up. "Thanks, Hermione. I'd like that." They had reached her room at the top of the stairs and Ginny pushed open the door to lead them inside. "You can put Hermione's trunk over there by the window," she pointed. "Sorry it's kind of crowded."  
  
Harry had only glimpsed the inside of Ginny's room once, when he had caught her peeking out at him on his first visit to the Burrow. It was small, like Ron's, with most of the space taken up by a plain wooden bed and an old cot. Unlike Ron's room, though, the walls and ceiling were not plastered with shocking orange posters of the Chudley Cannons. Instead they had been painted or charmed-Harry wasn't sure which-to look like a sunny forest glade complete with unicorns, centaurs, and other magical creatures. Harry peered more closely at the wall beside the window as he and Ron lowered the trunk, and a rather roguish-looking imp winked at him.  
  
"Ginny," smiled Hermione in delight as she spun slowly round in the middle of the room, "this turned out great!"  
  
"Thanks." Ginny's freckles disappeared momentarily against the flush rising in her cheeks. Harry stared at her in surprise.  
  
"You did all this yourself, then?" he asked.  
  
"Tuh," said Hermione indignantly. "Of course she did! Ginny's very good at charms."   
  
Ginny was blushing again. "Oh, but I couldn't have done it without your help, Hermione," she insisted. "Really, your advice about doing the constellations for the ceiling was spot-on."  
  
"I didn't know there were charms for stuff like this," Harry interrupted curiously.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrow. "That's because you and Ron never pay attention in Professor Flitwick's class," she said loftily. "How many times have I said you were missing out and you never believed me? Well, now you see that-"  
  
"Oh, boy," mumbled Ron, "here we go. Hermione, can't the lecture wait till later? Harry and I need to talk to the twins." He grabbed Harry's arm and headed for the door.  
  
"Hmph," said Hermione as they escaped to the hall, her annoyed voice drifting after them. "Honestly, Ginny, I don't know how you turned out so well with IthatI as a role model."  
  
Ginny's muffled laugh cut off abruptly as Ron closed the door of his room behind them, and Harry turned to see Fred and George waiting for them, both in full mischief mode.  
  
"Did you drop it?" asked Fred excitedly, balancing on the balls of his feet.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry distractedly, "but why are there four beds in here?" There was hardly room for him to walk as he moved to the one beside Ron's.  
  
"Bill and Charlie are here for a few days," answered George with a dismissive wave. "But do you know if he IateI it?" There was a frantic gleam in his eyes that Harry might have found a trifle unnerving if he weren't already accustomed to the twins' distinctive brand of humour.  
  
"We didn't see him eat it," Harry shrugged, and the twins' faces fell. "But, as it IisI Dudley, you can bet he'll sniff it out soon enough," he added with a smirk. "What's it do, anyway?"  
  
Fred and George cracked identical evil grins. "Nothing dangerous," said Fred. "It'll just give him a slight case of unstoppable burping for oh, maybe a day or two."  
  
Harry's eyes widened as Ron started to laugh. "A burping candy?" he echoed. "That's brilliant!"  
  
"We thought so," George nodded. "We call 'em Belch Bombs. Classy, eh?"  
  
Harry laughed. "You two'll make galleons with those at school. As long as your mum doesn't find out, that is."  
  
Ron shook his head. "Don't worry-if anyone can keep a secret from Mum it's these two clowns," he grinned, giving the nearest twin an affectionate punch in the shoulder. "Now, how about a quick lunch so we can hit the broomsticks?"  
  
The four of them collected Hermione and Ginny and tromped down to the kitchen to munch on cold sandwiches and lemonade while they planned the week's activities. Mrs. Weasley offered to take them shopping for their school things at Diagon Alley the next day ("Perfect!" said Hermione. "That gives us a full week to do our reading!") and then shooed them all outside to enjoy the nice weather.   
  
Ron led the way to a secluded dale a few minutes away from the house, where they could fly reasonably high without being seen by any passing Muggles. The twins had brought the practice balls they had enchanted to act as Bludgers and Quaffles and agreed to be Beaters on opposing teams. In the absence of the Snitch Harry took the position of Chaser on George's team, with Ron as Keeper. Hermione was not a particularly adept flier, though she felt considerably more comfortable on her broomstick than she had on Buckbeak, and would have preferred to watch, but Harry eventually convinced her to play Chaser on the other team ("Come on, Hermione, it's easy. All you have to do is chuck balls at Ron."). Ginny, on the other hand, seemed to have inherited the Weasley talent for flying and needed no persuasion to play Keeper on Fred's side.  
  
Harry hadn't known just how much he missed Quidditch until he mounted his trusty Firebolt and kicked off. High up in the air, with the wind whipping past his ears, he felt happier than he had in months. Besides which, it was impossible for him to think about Cedric or Voldemort while trying to dodge Bludgers and score goals with the Quaffle. Harry had to concentrate even harder on his flying after the first game, when he switched teams with Hermione to test Ron's Keeper potential a bit more rigorously.  
  
Harry would have been content to keep playing all night, but towards the end of the fifth game Hermione pointed to the sinking sun and reminded the boys that Mrs. Weasley wanted them home before dark. With a sigh Harry made one last loop on his Firebolt and landed next to Ron, who was trying not to appear overly anxious.  
  
"Well?" he said. "Do I have a shot at making the team?"  
  
Harry shook his head slowly, and Ron's shoulders slumped. "You don't just have a shot," Harry told him with a grin, "you IareI the next Wood." Ron looked up in surprise as he continued. "If Professor McGonagall doesn't make you Keeper after the first five minutes of your try-out, I'll eat a skrewt."  
  
Ron's eyes widened. "Really?"  
  
"Well of course not really, Ronniekins," smirked Fred.   
  
"Yeah," George nodded gravely. "That would be disgusting."  
  
Harry laughed as Ron glared at the twins. "Seriously, I think you're good enough to make it," he said. "Besides, we need someone who can plan our strategies, too, and McGonagall knows how well you play chess."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ron's forehead crinkled in confusion.  
  
Harry started packing the Quaffles away in their box again. "All I'm saying is, you better not make us practice before dawn in the freezing rain like Wood when you're Captain." He peeked sideways at his friend's face, which began to split into a silly grin as Ron finally cottoned on.  
  
"Oi, go on!" said Ron, shoving Harry's shoulder while the tips of his ears turned redder than the Quaffle he was holding. Harry grinned back, and the two of them helped Fred and George wrestle the mock Bludgers into their case before retrieving their broomsticks from Ginny and Hermione.  
  
"You made some good saves up there," Harry told Ginny as they started back toward the Burrow. "Have you ever wanted to join the Gryffindor team?"  
  
Ginny blushed. "Thanks. I like Quidditch, and I've been playing with my brothers ever since Charlie was Seeker, but I think it's so much more exciting to watch." She grinned sideways at him and added, "Especially when Gryffindor is stomping Slytherin. I'll never forget the match when their Chaser grabbed Katie's head and tried to say he thought it was a Quaffle. I don't think I've ever seen such blatant cheating before or since."  
  
Harry snorted, remembering how Malfoy had seized the end of his broom to stop him from getting the Snitch. "That was the dirtiest game I've ever played in," he agreed. "Too bad cheating didn't help the Slytherins win."  
  
Ginny laughed. "I bet you're looking forward to your next match with them, huh?" Harry nodded enthusiastically, but Ginny's tone grew serious. "I think that's one reason Ron wants to make the team so badly," she remarked quietly. "You know how much he hates Malfoy-he thinks it's the perfect chance for vengeance." She stopped walking and lowered her voice so her brothers and Hermione wouldn't overhear. "I hope Ron becomes Keeper," she assured him, "I really do, but-" Ginny hesitated and looked up at Harry, chewing her lip. "If he does, will you watch out for him? You know, make sure he doesn't lose his temper and get himself expelled?"  
  
Harry didn't think he was in any position to prevent anyone else from losing their temper at Malfoy, since the last time they had met he had hexed the boy, but he couldn't very well say so to Ginny. Instead he smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way and promised to keep an eye on Ron, feeling somewhat guilty when he saw how relieved Ginny seemed as they resumed walking.  
  
"Oi, Gin, Harry!" Fred waved at them to hurry. "What are you two doing back there? We're going to be late!" Harry and Ginny ran to catch up with him, and the six of them sprinted into the Weasley kitchen just in time to avoid a lecture. Mrs. Weasley had concocted yet another delicious meal, which Harry appreciated all the more after an entire summer of Aunt Petunia's less than imaginative cooking, and for dessert she had even baked a chocolate cake ("I know it's a bit late, Harry, but happy birthday, dear."). She also refused to let them help with the dishes, instead ushering them into the living room with the suggestion that they play a few games of Exploding Snap.  
  
"You know this is the real reason I invited you two, right?" Ron grinned at Harry and Hermione as they sat down with a pack of cards. "The only time Mum lets us get out of our chores is when we have guests she really likes."  
  
"Hey, what are friends for?" Harry joked. "Here, George, it's your deal." He was soon caught up in the game-or rather in keeping a straight face while the twins tried to singe Ron's eyebrows with the flaming cards-and didn't realize how much time had passed until Ginny jumped up in excitement.  
  
"Dad's coming home!" She pointed to the magical clock in the corner, where the hands labeled Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Percy hovered over "Traveling." A moment later they snapped to "Home," and the four oldest Weasleys appeared with a pop. All of them looked very tired, but greeted Harry and Hermione with warm handshakes and smiles as Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen.   
  
"Hello, Arthur, boys," she smiled, giving her husband a quick kiss. "How was your day?"  
  
"Long," answered Bill. "Any chance you saved us some dinner, or did this sorry lot finish it off?" he teased, pointing at Harry and the others.  
  
Mrs. Weasley gave Bill's ponytail an affectionate tug. "Nonsense, dear. Now into the kitchen with all of you. You can chat after you've eaten." She led the way out of the living room, and Harry, Hermione, and the younger Weasleys returned to their game.   
  
Once the adults were safely out of earshot Hermione motioned to the others to huddle over the table. "Do you think they'll tell us anything more about what's happening?" she asked in a whisper.  
  
Ron shook his head, looking glum. "Not likely," he answered.  
  
"We haven't been able to get them to talk about work at all," Ginny agreed.  
  
"Not even Percy," added Fred grimly. "That's how we know it's serious."  
  
George sighed. "We've tried sneaking up on them while they're eating, but so far we haven't been able to overhear anything."  
  
"What about you, Harry?" asked Ron. "Have you heard anything from Hagrid or-" he stopped, his eyes flickering to Ginny and the twins, and amended hastily, "anyone else?"  
  
Harry frowned and shook his head. "No. Not a thing." Ginny was looking at him with a slightly perplexed expression, and once again he wished that he didn't have to keep his godfather's identity a secret.  
  
Hermione looked disappointed. "Well," she sighed, "I guess if no one is going to tell us anything there isn't much we can do about it. Maybe we'll be able to find out more at Hogwarts."  
  
"I hope so," said Harry. "I hate not knowing what we're up against."  
  
The others nodded silently, lost in their own thoughts until Fred tried to lighten the mood by passing out the cards again. Harry's mind wasn't really on the game, though, and he narrowly avoided torching his own eyebrows a few times. It was true that he hated the uncertainty of their current situation, but in fact he knew best out of everyone in the wizarding world what-or rather who-they were fighting. Harry could only imagine what it must be like for his friends to wonder what he had faced the night of the Third Task.  
  
The somber mood that had descended over the living room lifted a little when Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Percy finished eating and joined the rest of the family. Ron and George challenged Percy and Fred to a game of team chess while Mr. Weasley cornered Hermione with a question about "capacitators." Mrs. Weasley, it appeared, had not given up on the idea of trimming Bill's hair, and Ginny was trying to reason with her in his defense. Charlie came over to ask Harry what he thought of Ron's abilities as a Keeper, and the conversation turned to Seeker strategies.  
  
"The book Ron gave you for your birthday used to be one of my favourites," Charlie informed him with a grin. "There are some absolutely bully moves in there."   
  
"Do you miss playing for Gryffindor?" asked Harry.  
  
Charlie shrugged good-naturedly. "Sometimes. But I still get to fly a lot when I'm working." He nudged Harry's arm. "You never know when a Wronski Feint might come in handy against a dragon, eh?" Harry blushed at the reference to his celebrated defeat of the Hungarian Horntail during the Triwizard Tournament, and Charlie seemed to remember something. "That reminds me," he said, fishing around in the inner pocket of his robes. "Here." He handed Harry a framed picture of a large, fire-blowing dragon that looked oddly familiar. "That's Norbert. I thought Hagrid might like to know how well he grew up."  
  
"Whoa," breathed Harry. "Good thing we convinced Hagrid to let you take him. Something tells me the other students would have noticed this."  
  
Charlie laughed. "Yeah, the scorch marks are a dead give away."  
  
The rest of the evening passed quite pleasantly, Harry thought, and he was glad the older Weasleys had a chance to relax for a while. He had retrieved his Seeker book from upstairs and curled up on the couch, but his gaze kept straying from the pictures to the other occupants of the room. Mr. Weasley sat in one corner with Percy, waving his arms in an animated description of the Muggle artifact Hermione had just explained to him. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione had their heads together in the opposite corner, behaving rather girlishly in Harry's opinion by speaking in hushed tones and giggling occasionally. Ron and George, victorious in their first game, had decided to go for another win against Fred and Charlie, and Harry could hear the reckless cries of Ron's notorious bishops from all the way across the room. Ginny sat by the fireplace with a stack of schoolbooks, obviously engrossed in the arduous task of completing one of Snape's hated summer essays. Beside her, Bill lay sprawled on the rug with a book about mummies. Apparently it wasn't very interesting, however, since he kept trying to distract Ginny by stealing her quill when she wasn't looking.  
  
That night while Harry lay awake listening to Ron and the twins' snores he wondered once again what it would have been like if his parents had lived. Would they have had more children after him? Would he have had younger brothers who looked up to him the way Ron looked up to Bill, or perhaps a little sister with red hair like his mother's that he could pull to make her laugh? Harry knew that Ron sometimes envied him his fame and fortune, but as he drifted off to sleep he wished he could trade it all to become part of a family like the Weasleys instead.  
  
  
Author's Note: It's been pointed out to me by a very observant person that Harry already knows what an éclair is, since he and Ron were both stuffing them down in GoF when they visited the kitchens. All I can say is, don't ever loan your books out to slow readers because then you make silly goofs like that! Sorry! Anyway, in the next part Harry and co. go shopping at Diagon Alley and run into someone interesting. R/R, s'il vous plait.  



	3. At Diagon Alley

AS STRONG AS WE ARE UNITED A Harry Potter fanfic by Winky  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.  
  
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.  
  
CHAPTER THREE: AT DIAGON ALLEY  
  
It was early the next morning when Bill came knocking on Ron's door, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Everybody up," he called, tugging his hair into its customary ponytail. "Breakfast is waiting."  
  
"Mmm, I smell bangers!" Charlie appeared in the doorway behind Bill with a shirt midway over his head, and Harry wondered if Norbert was responsible for the long burn he glimpsed across one freckled shoulder.   
  
Fred stifled a yawn and leaped out of bed. "Come on, you two." He yanked the covers off Ron and Harry's beds. "There won't be anything left if Charlie gets down there first."  
  
As usual Harry hadn't slept very well, but he got up and started rummaging in his trunk for a change of clothes. A few moments later he was hurrying down the stairs with Ron and the twins, still trying to match his buttons properly while flattening his hair with one hand. The four of them could hear muffled laughter coming from the kitchen, where they crowded triumphantly just seconds ahead of Bill and Charlie.   
  
Mrs. Weasley, who was already seated at one end of the table with Ginny and Hermione, greeted them brightly. "Good morning, boys." Her eyes were twinkling, and she shared a mysterious smile with the girls before the three of them burst into laughter again. Harry couldn't see what they found so amusing, but he got the sinking feeling he and the other boys were the source of their merriment.   
  
Ron shrugged and rolled his eyes at Harry. "Completely nutters," he muttered, shaking his head and sitting down across from Hermione.  
  
Harry had just finished pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice and nearly dropped the jug when Percy popped up suddenly by his elbow, and Ron made a face across the table. Apparently Percy had not lost the habit of Apparating downstairs every morning.  
  
"Morning, all," said the older boy in his usual stiff manner, taking a seat next to George and serving himself briskly. "Fred, could you pass the mash? I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush-called in to the office early again, you know."  
  
Harry knew that if he met Ron's eyes they would both start laughing, so he focused instead on the plate of potatoes Charlie handed him. He nearly choked when he saw what Fred had hidden in the middle of the platter and passed it quickly to George, who pushed it towards Percy without batting an eye.  
  
"Here you go, Perce," he smiled sweetly.  
  
"Thanks," Percy nodded, oblivious to the juicy slug he had just scooped onto his own plate. Harry was now gripping his chair in a desperate attempt to contain his mirth, so it came as a welcome distraction when Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen and stooped to drop a kiss on his wife's forehead.   
  
"Good morning, everyone." Mr. Weasley's voice was cheerful, but Harry didn't miss the lines of worry that creased his brow as he sat down with a cup of coffee, tucking the day's issue of IThe Daily ProphetI into his robes. Harry opened his mouth to ask if there was any news, but Hermione fixed him with a warning look and he hastily took a bite of toast instead.   
  
Further down the table Bill was admiring Ginny's hair, which she wore pulled back like Hermione's had been the day before. "You girls look nice today," he complimented them. "Got something special planned?"  
  
Ginny blushed as Bill elbowed her teasingly. "No, we're just going shopping at Diagon Alley. Mum's taking us to get our school things."  
  
"Oh, Molly, that reminds me," said Mr. Weasley. "Would you mind running an errand for me while you're there? I have a message to deliver." His face was carefully neutral, but Harry exchanged a quick glance with Ron and Hermione. All three of them noticed the strain in Mrs. Weasley's voice as she agreed to the request, which obviously had something to do with Dumbledore's plan. Nothing else was said on the subject, however, and Harry contented himself with hoping they could find out more once they reached Diagon Alley.  
  
After breakfast Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Charlie said their farewells and Apparated to the Ministry, leaving Mrs. Weasley in charge of conjuring the fire for the others' journey by Floo powder. Before long Harry found himself standing with Hermione and the five Weasleys on the sunny cobblestones of Diagon Alley.  
  
"All right," said Mrs. Weasley as she looked at her watch, "it's half past nine. If I leave you lot alone for a little while can I trust you to meet me back here at noon? I have some things to take care of."  
  
"Sure, Mum," Ron nodded. "We won't get into trouble, we promise."  
  
Mrs. Weasley eyed them all beadily for a moment. "Very well," she said at last. "But that goes for you two especially." She wagged a finger at Fred and George. "And I don't want any of you wandering off by yourselves, is that understood?" Everyone nodded. "All right then. Stay together, be careful, and"-Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly-"have fun. I'll see you in a few hours."  
  
Once she was gone Harry and the others consulted their lists to determine where to go first. Fred and George quickly excused themselves, claiming they had "business" to take care of and promising to meet the others later. Hermione needed to exchange some Muggle money, so they decided to start at Gringotts. As they walked towards the impressive marble building Harry kept his gaze moving, scanning the other passersby for any familiar faces. After the tragic events of the year before he didn't know how his schoolmates would react to him, and he had actually begun to feel a bit nervous about returning to Hogwarts at the end of the week. Harry didn't really expect to see many other students at Diagon Alley that early in the week, though, and was both relieved and disappointed when they reached the bank without encountering anyone they knew.   
  
When Hermione rejoined them at the top of the stairs with a bag of wizard coins Harry suggested that they head for Flourish and Blotts next to get their books. Ginny, it turned out, already had hers, but she remembered what her mother had said and agreed to go with the others.  
  
"You mean IthoseI were the books you had in your trunk?" Ron asked Hermione as they entered the musty bookstore. "You brought your old ones for Ginny?"  
  
"Obviously, Ron," said Ginny impatiently. "What else did you think they were?" She smiled mischievously at Harry as she passed, remarking in a casual tone to Ron, "Hermione is very thoughtful, isn't she?"  
  
Ron stared after the two girls as they disappeared behind a bookshelf, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "Well that's just-I didn't think-" he sputtered, trailing off lamely. Harry had enough sense not to try to offer his friend an explanation, so he quickly pulled out his list and started searching for the required texts.   
  
"Okay," said Ginny cheerfully when the four of them had gathered outside the store, "where should we go next?"  
  
"How about Quality Quidditch Supplies?" suggested Ron hopefully. He had been eyeing the shop's display window ever since they arrived at Diagon Alley.  
  
"Sure," said Hermione with rare interest. "Viktor said there's a new broom model out-the Quicksilver 500, I think."  
  
Ron's jaw dropped. "Oh, so you've developed a taste for Quidditch now, have you?" he asked stiffly, his voice rising slightly. Harry glanced at Ginny, who was watching the exchange with avid attention.  
  
"No," said Hermione patiently, "I was simply trying to pass on some news I thought you'd be interested in."  
  
"Well of course if IViktorI knows about it then it must be important," said Ron, shouldering his bag. "Let's go and see right now."  
  
Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. "There's no need for you to take that tone," she said coldly. "I don't care if you dislike Viktor, but he's been a good friend to me and I won't have you making fun of him." Her eyes flashed dangerously as she glared up at the tall redhead. "Honestly, Ron, if you could stop being a prat long enough you'd see that you and Viktor have a lot in common."  
  
"Yeah?" scoffed Ron. "Like what?"  
  
"Well," Hermione began, flushing a little, "for starters, you're both very good at Quidditch, and secondly-" She broke off and looked at Ron, who was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. Hermione sighed. "Oh, never mind. I need to go buy some treats for Crookshanks," she grumbled irritably. "Who wants to come with me?"  
  
"I'll go." Ron's voice sounded quite subdued. He looked at Harry and shrugged. "I have to get some owl pellets for Pig, anyway."  
  
"Right," said Harry, sharing a furtive smile with Ginny. "Why don't I go with Ginny to get her potions supplies, then, and we'll meet you at Florean Fortescue's in fifteen minutes. It'll be my treat, since you were nice enough to write me all summer to keep me from going insane at the Dursleys," he grinned.  
  
Ron's lopsided smile returned. "You mean the Harry Potter Muggle Relief Front?" he joked. "Don't mention it."  
  
He and Hermione set off for the Magical Menagerie, while Harry and Ginny headed in the opposite direction. As they rounded the corner they heard Ron's hesitant voice drifting away in the distance ("Do you really think I'm good at Quidditch?"), and Ginny looked up at Harry with twinkling eyes.  
  
"Your brother isn't doing too well today, is he?" Harry observed with a smirk.  
  
Ginny laughed. "No, he isn't," she agreed. "Poor thing. Too bad he doesn't realize that Hermione and Viktor are just friends."  
  
"Maybe we should tell him," said Harry lightly, and Ginny stopped walking to face him, eyebrows raised. Harry cracked a wicked grin. "Nah! It's too much fun watching him figure it out." They were both still laughing by the time they reached the apothecary's, where it only took Ginny a moment to buy her ingredients. Since they had a few extra minutes before they were supposed to meet Ron and Hermione, Harry asked her if she would mind walking by Quality Quidditch Supplies to see the new broom.  
  
"Of course not!" she told him. "I'd like to see it, too." They made their way over to the popular store and stood outside the window, where the Quicksilver 500 rested atop a fancy display touting its "innovative and superior craftsmanship!" Harry pressed his face up to the glass to get a better view, and Ginny cocked her head at him. "Are you thinking of buying one?" she asked.   
  
Harry stepped back and smiled. "No," he shook his head. "I already have an excellent broom. There isn't much point in getting a new one."  
  
"Your Firebolt really means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Ginny remarked quietly, and something in her voice told Harry that she understood why. She couldn't have known that Sirius had given it to him, of course, but it seemed to Harry that she might have guessed that the broom was connected to his parents. He frowned thoughtfully, studying Ginny's profile in the window.  
  
"Well, well, if it isn't Potty and the Weasel girl."  
  
Another face had appeared suddenly in the glass next to Ginny's reflection, wearing a sour, mocking expression that Harry knew could only belong to Draco Malfoy. He whirled to face the sneering Slytherin, just in time to see Lucius Malfoy step into a shop a few doors down.  
  
"Buying a broomstick for your impoverished girlfriend, Potter?"  
  
Harry didn't answer. His head was pounding with the echo of Malfoy's comment about Cedric at the beginning of the summer, and he could feel a kind of heat building in the pit of his stomach. Inside his pocket, Harry's fingers tightened around his wand.  
  
"Go away, Malfoy." Ginny's voice was quiet but firm. She stepped forward to stand beside Harry and he could feel her holding her breath.  
  
"Ooh, touching." Malfoy curled his lip at Ginny. "Is he paying you to be this devoted, or are you just that pathetic?"   
  
"Leave her alone!" Harry growled as Ginny went scarlet, clutching his wand so tightly his fingernails dug into his palm.   
  
"Why don't you make me?" Malfoy's voice dropped to a low hiss and he took a step closer to Harry. "Come on, Potter," he wheedled. "Or are you too scared of getting in trouble for using magic during the summer?" His gray eyes glinted coldly as his mouth snaked into a sickening smile. "It's a lot harder to break the rules when you don't have your stupid fan club to back you up, isn't it, Potter?" he drawled smugly. "What's the matter-did your friends abandon you because you got that prat Diggory killed?"  
  
Something erupted in Harry's chest. In a flash he had whipped out his wand and aimed it at Malfoy, a curse on his lips, but he had already missed his chance. There was a loud CRACK, and the tall blonde staggered backwards with blood streaming from his nose.  
  
"How dare you say that about Harry, you evil, disgusting coward!" Ginny swung her fist back again, her brown eyes blazing with fury. "He risked his life for Cedric!" she cried fiercely. Stunned, Harry tried to grab her arm to prevent her striking Malfoy a second time, but she shook free and leaped forward menacingly. Malfoy stumbled out of the way, wide-eyed and holding his bloody nose with one hand, then hastily retreated without another word.   
  
"Ginny?" Harry reached hesitantly towards her, and she turned slowly to face him. His shock turned to concern when he saw that she was trembling, and that there were tears in her eyes. "Are you okay?"   
  
Ginny nodded and took a ragged breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It's just-" She paused to give her cheeks an impatient swipe. "He had no right to say that about you-or Cedric." Ginny looked up at Harry with a feeble smile, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears again. "Oh, no!" she gasped, "What will Mum do when she finds out?"  
  
"Ginny, don't cry," Harry pleaded. "Your mum doesn't have to know. Malfoy won't be too keen on anyone finding out how he got a bloody nose," he pointed out with a smirk, "so there's no chance she'll hear about it if we don't tell her. Besides, it would have been a lot worse if you hadn't punched him. I was about to hex the pants off him."  
  
"I wish you had!" Ginny scowled. "He deserved it." She glanced up at Harry sharply, her expression softening with worry as she searched his face. "You know what he said isn't true, don't you?" she asked earnestly. "Nobody blames you for what happened."  
  
Harry nodded, managing a small smile. "I know. It's nice to be reminded, though." Ginny's face brightened, and Harry bent to collect their shopping bags. "Come on. We better get to Fortescue's before the others start worrying."  
  
Ron and Hermione were already waiting at a table when Harry and Ginny reached the ice cream shop. "You'll never guess who we just saw," Ron greeted them as they stashed their purchases under a chair.  
  
"Really?" Harry tried to sound curious. "Why don't we get our ice creams and then you can tell us," he suggested, exchanging a quick look with Ginny.  
  
A few minutes later they were all seated at the table again, happily digging into four of Florean Fortescue's famous giant sundaes. "So," Ron began around a mouthful of peppermint, "don't you want to know who we saw?"  
  
Harry kept his tone casual. "The Malfoys?" he guessed, taking another bite of his sundae.  
  
Ron's face fell. "How did you know?"   
  
Hermione stopped eating and looked from Harry to Ginny. "Did you two see them?" she asked.  
  
Harry glanced at Ginny, who was staunchly spooning away at her chocolate topping, avoiding her brother's eyes. "Er, you could say that," he answered slowly.  
  
Hermione's gaze met Ron's briefly before she turned to Harry with eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Did something happen?" demanded Ron, peering dubiously at his friend and sister.  
  
Harry shifted in his seat. "We-had a difficulty," he said finally. "Ginny gave him a bloody nose."  
  
"WHAT?!" Ron and Hermione dropped their spoons and wheeled to stare at Ginny.  
  
"You would've, too!" she protested quickly. "He deserved it."  
  
"I'll say," Harry nodded. Ron and Hermione listened intently while he related what had happened at the Quidditch shop, but when he told them what Malfoy had said they both gasped in outrage.  
  
"That slimy, good-for-nothing ferret!" cried Ron furiously, slamming his fist against the table and narrowly avoiding his ice cream.  
  
"How could he have said that?" Hermione shook her head in angry disbelief. "I'm surprised you didn't hex him, Harry!"   
  
"Believe me, I wanted to," Harry admitted, "but it's a good thing Ginny beat me to it, or I'd have been expelled from Hogwarts and had to spend the rest of my life with the Dursleys. Ugh." He shuddered at that thought and smiled his gratitude at Ginny again. "By the way, that was a ruddy good right hook," he told her. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"  
  
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I grew up with six older brothers," she reminded him. "I was bound to pick up a few things. I never thought I'd be using them on Draco Malfoy, though." She pulled a face, shaking her head incredulously, and it struck Harry then that the whole situation was actually quite humourous.  
  
"Poor Malfoy!" he cried suddenly, causing the others to stare at him as he began to shake with uncontrollable laughter. "The look on his face when you hit him!" Harry wheezed, pointing at Ginny. "It was better than the Amazing Bouncing Ferret!" Ron and Hermione started to smile, too, and he turned to them and gasped between breaths, "You two-should have been-there. It was brilliant!"  
  
Ginny was looking down at her hands, blushing all the way to the roots of her hair while the others joined Harry in laughter. "What is it with you girls and hitting Malfoy?" Ron sobered enough to ask her. "First Hermione slaps him, now you sock him in the nose-is this going to become a habit? Because if it is I am ready to offer my full support."  
  
"Nonsense, Ron," Hermione admonished him. "I'm sure neither of us has any intention of picking fights with Malfoy." Her voice lacked its usual sternness, though, and Harry suspected that she was secretly proud of having once hit the hateful Slytherin.   
  
"That's too bad," sighed Ron, shaking his head. "I bet you two could make him cry if you really wanted to," he speculated, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm for this idea.  
  
"Oh, Ron," tutted Ginny, but she looked rather pleased with the compliment.  
  
When they had finished their ice creams it was getting close to twelve o'clock, and the four of them collected their shopping and headed back towards the place where Mrs. Weasley had left them that morning. "Where do you reckon the twins got off to?" Harry asked Ron as they reached the street corner with no sign of the older boys.  
  
"Probably went to find someone to invest in their joke shop," Ron shrugged. "They've been planning it all summer."  
  
"What about your mum?" asked Hermione curiously. "What do you suppose was in that message from your dad, and who was it for?"  
  
None of them could think of an answer to that, and they spent the next few minutes speculating about it until Ginny spotted her mother coming down the street with the twins in tow. "Remember," she begged them anxiously, "not a word to Mum about what happened or I'll never be able to leave the house again."  
  
Harry nodded and turned to wave at Mrs. Weasley, who joined them a bit breathlessly and greeted them with a smile. "Did you have a good time, dears?" she asked. "Get everything you need? Good." Mrs. Weasley pulled out a bag of Floo powder. "Into the fireplace with you all, then. Lunch is waiting."  
  
Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve as the twins disappeared first into the green flames. "Look," she whispered urgently, pointing to Mrs. Weasley's bag. A flap of parchment was poking out over the lip of the satchel, and Harry could just make out the initials IA.F.I scrawled upside-down in one corner like a signature. He turned back to Hermione and knew she was thinking the same thing: Mrs. Weasley might have been visiting with none other than the mysterious Arabella Figg herself! As Harry stepped into the sooty fireplace he told himself he would find out the truth before the week was through.  
  
  
Author's Note: Coming in the next part--Molly and Arthur have a chat, Harry has another dream, and Ginny has a moment. Of course, comments and opinions are always welcome.  



	4. The Dream

AS STRONG AS WE ARE UNITED A Harry Potter fanfic by Winky  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.  
  
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: THE DREAM  
  
Harry's mission to discover the identity of Arabella Figg proved more difficult than he expected, and as the days slipped by without bringing him any closer to the truth he began to lose hope of ever solving the mystery. Apart from his disappointment in that regard, though, Harry thoroughly enjoyed his time at the Burrow. The week flew by in a blur of Quidditch games, studying, and evening chats with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Most of the time it was just the four of them, as the twins spent a lot of time locked in their room and the older Weasleys usually worked late at the Ministry. On a few occasions, however, Bill and Charlie managed to come home early enough to join in at Quidditch practice. Ron hadn't exaggerated when he said that Charlie was an amazing flyer, and Harry picked up some excellent tips before the former Seeker returned to his job in Romania at the end of the week. Bill left the same day for Egypt, but both boys promised to visit their sister and brothers at Hogwarts later in the term.  
  
The house seemed much quieter without the Weasleys' eldest sons, and mealtimes were certainly less crowded in the tiny kitchen, but Harry already missed Bill's teasing smirk and Charlie's easy-going humour. He often thought about how lonely it must be for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley during the school year when all their children were away. Harry liked the evenings best, when the whole family gathered in the living room to talk, play games, or read on their own before a final round of hot chocolate signaled the time for bed.  
  
It was on the last of these evenings that Harry finally received a clue about the elusive Arabella Figg. Everyone had gone to their rooms to pack for the journey to Hogwarts the next day when Harry discovered that he had left his Seeker strategies book downstairs. He retrieved it from the living room couch and started back towards the stairs, but hushed voices in the kitchen made him pause.   
  
"...much better knowing that Arabella is returning to her post at Privet Drive," Mr. Weasley was saying. "Those poor Muggles would be completely defenseless if anything were to happen."  
  
Harry didn't like to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help tiptoeing closer to the door as Mrs. Weasley's harsh voice joined her husband's. "Those poor Muggles used to lock your son's best friend in the cupboard!" she reminded him angrily.  
  
"I know," Mr. Weasley agreed, "but they don't deserve to be attacked because of it. Besides, the rest of the Muggles on the street need protection, too. Death Eaters aren't likely to be squeamish about a few extra murders."  
  
"You're right, of course, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley gave a weary sigh. "I just hate to think of poor Harry living with those awful Dursleys for so long, not knowing who or what he was." Her next words sounded muffled, as if they were spoken into Mr. Weasley's robes. "I know it's easier to protect him while he's with them, but I'm so grateful to Albus for letting him stay with us."  
  
"So am I, Molly," Mr. Weasley answered. "Harry has a hard road ahead of him. He deserves whatever happiness we can share with him."  
  
The voices fell silent, leaving Harry's mind awhirl with confusion over what he had just heard. He stole back up the stairs silently and returned to Ron's room.  
  
"Find it?" the redhead peeked out from behind his trunk as Harry closed the door.  
  
"I left it on the couch." Harry waved the book absently and knelt beside his own trunk, trying to sort out his thoughts as he finished folding his school robes. He considered talking to his friends about what had happened downstairs, but he was reluctant to admit he had eavesdropped on Ron's parents, and also he wanted some time to think things over first.   
  
Long after Ron had begun to snore Harry lay awake replaying the Weasleys' conversation in his head. Now that his suspicions about the Dursleys' eccentric old neighbor were confirmed, he wondered about the full extent of Mrs. Figg's duties at Privet Drive. Much as Harry disliked his mother's relatives, he agreed with Mr. Weasley that they didn't deserve to be targeted by Voldemort's followers, and it made him angry that they and the other Muggles on the street were endangered because of him. Harry thought again about Mrs. Weasley saying he was better protected at the Dursleys, and remembered how Dumbledore always insisted he return there each summer. Some kind of powerful magic connected him to that unfortunate family, Harry felt, and it seemed if he could just think hard enough he would figure out why. But no answers came to him, and eventually he drifted into a turbulent sleep.  
  
Harry opened his eyes to find himself standing under a broken streetlight in the middle of the night. The terrified shrieks of pale-faced, fleeing Muggles pierced the air while masked figures in long robes loomed ominously in every direction. High in the sky above the panic-filled street, a giant, glittering green skull cast its sickly tinge on the houses below. Harry's stomach twisted with dread as he let his gaze drop to the house directly beneath the Dark Mark. He knew before he read the address that it was Number 4 Privet Drive.   
  
Harry sat up with a jolt, shaking hard and drenched with sweat. Automatically he pressed a hand to his scar, letting out his breath with relief when he felt nothing more than the dull ache to which he had grown accustomed. It had only been a dream after all. Nonetheless, Harry knew better than to try to fall asleep again, so he slipped quietly out of bed and stepped into the hall.  
  
The utter silence of the house grated on Harry's overwrought nerves, and he made his way quickly to the back door, shivering in the chill air when he stepped out into the garden. It was a clear night, much like the one in his dream, and Harry couldn't prevent his gaze from sweeping the sky as he started down the overgrown path before him. "Stop it," he told himself firmly, taking a seat on an old stone bench in the corner of the yard. He let his head drop into his hands and took several deep breaths, trying to clear his thoughts.  
  
"Oh!"  
  
The sound of a small gasp made Harry raise his head sharply. Ginny was standing barefoot a few paces away, her old white nightgown ghostly in the moonlight.  
  
"I didn't know you were out here," she stammered hurriedly, blushing. "I'm sorry." Ginny looked at the ground, dragging her toe idly in the dirt.  
  
"That's okay." Harry wiped at his face quickly. "I was just thinking." Ginny didn't say anything. Her gaze fell on the seat next to him and Harry suddenly remembered his manners. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked, budging over a bit to make room.  
  
"Oh-yes." Ginny sank down onto the bench and let her legs swing back and forth. "Thanks." She smiled shyly at Harry.  
  
There was a pause before he thought to ask what she was doing out in the garden at that hour. "Couldn't sleep?" Ginny nodded. "Excited about school tomorrow?"  
  
"Sort of," she shrugged. "Hermione's been helping me a lot with curses and countercurses for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I hope we have a good teacher this year."  
  
Harry smiled faintly, remembering the disasters all but one of his Dark Arts professors had been. "I wish Professor Lupin were still at Hogwarts," he sighed. "He was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we ever had."  
  
Ginny's head bobbed in agreement. "I thought so, too. I'll never forget how he stood up to that dementor on the train." She shuddered slightly. "I hate to think what would have happened if it had been that prat Lockhart instead."  
  
Harry snorted. "He probably would have jumped out the window and left us, the worthless coward." He still remembered his reaction to finding Lockhart trying to run away after Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
"I don't know what I'll do if we get another one like him," said Ginny, shaking her head gravely. "It would be just too awful." She sighed and looked up at the stars. "Especially now."  
  
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"   
  
Ginny's eyes were serious when she turned back to him, making her seem suddenly older. "Things are different now, Harry," she reminded him sadly. "With Voldemort back we all need to know how to protect ourselves, how to fight against the Dark Arts and the Unforgivable Curses. We have to be prepared."  
  
Harry stared at her, not even registering that she hadn't said You-Know-Who. Ginny's matter-of-fact acceptance of the situation surprised him. "But-we'll be safe at Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore is there," he told her, trying to inject some certainty into his words.   
  
"I know," sighed Ginny, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be extra careful." A note of bitterness crept into her voice as she looked down at her hands. "Just look what happened to me because I didn't know how to recognize Dark Magic-people nearly died because of me." Ginny raised her head again, and Harry was startled by the fierceness of her gaze. "I don't want to be a pawn for the Dark Lord again," she said firmly.  
  
"But that wasn't your fault," Harry protested. "It could have happened to anyone."  
  
"Maybe so," Ginny conceded, "but I still feel horrible about it." Her lips curved into a wistful smile as she peered up at his face. "Cedric's death wasn't your fault, either," she said gently, "but don't you wish you could have done something differently, and maybe it wouldn't have happened?"  
  
Harry's mouth fell open. He IdidI wish that, at least a million times a day, and twice that many at night, when Cedric's face would appear sometimes in his dreams. He stared down at his hands, twisting them in his lap, and then he felt a soft touch on his arm. Harry glanced sideways to see Ginny gazing steadily at him with eyes full of sympathy. Her fiery hair looked dark in the starlight, like a lamp that had dimmed.  
  
"Harry, you can't change what happened any more than I can," she said quietly, "but you IcanI change the future. You IcanI fight back, and you IcanI defeat Voldemort, once and for all. I know you can, because you won't be alone next time."   
  
"What?" Harry's head snapped up sharply. "What are you talking about?"  
  
This time Ginny's eyebrow lifted in amusement. "Oh, come off it, Harry," she said impatiently. "You saved my life, and Ron's and Hermione's, and everyone's in the wizarding world if you think about it. Do you honestly believe any of us are going to stand by and let you face Voldemort alone again?"  
  
"But-" Harry faltered. Despite everything he knew about Dumbledore's efforts to unite the members of the magical community, he had somehow still pictured himself alone in the final confrontation with the Dark Lord. He had always been alone before, and had come to accept the fact that for whatever reason he was meant to be the champion of his fellow wizards. But mostly it was the tiny voice in Harry's head that kept him clinging stubbornly to his isolation, a voice that whispered persistent reminders of what happened to the people close to him when he faced Voldemort, a voice that was now screaming at him to flee the garden. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, wishing Ginny would go away.   
  
She didn't. In fact, she reached out and took his hand. "Look, Harry," Ginny began softly, "I know you must be really worried about what's going to happen this year. We all are. But it's no use torturing yourself-what will come will come, and when it does, all of us will face it together." She squeezed his hand briefly, and Harry swallowed and looked up. Ginny's pale face seemed to give off a light all its own as she gazed back at him with an expression of mingled hope and determination. "That's why we're going to win, Harry," she continued fervently. "Maybe not right away, maybe not even soon. But eventually Voldemort will lose, because he doesn't have what we do."  
  
"What, you mean the Boy Who Lived?" Harry scoffed, not understanding how Ginny could be so confident. "But I'm not-"  
  
"I didn't mean you," she cut him off, and Harry immediately felt like an idiot. But Ginny was shaking her head gently. "At least not that way," she explained. "I meant bravery, loyalty, selflessness-everything that's helped you defeat Voldemort in the past. Good people-people like Dumbledore, your parents, Professor Lupin-those are the people on our side, people who chose a side because they knew it was the right one, and not because they thought it would win. Voldemort doesn't understand that. His followers only support him out of fear and selfishness, and in the end he'll be all alone. But you, Harry Potter," Ginny squeezed his hand again, "you'll never be alone. Everyone in the wizarding world is going to fight, too, no matter what it takes. And we're going to win, because real power comes from loyalty and love and sacrifice, not curses and Dark Magic."   
  
Ginny finished in a breathless rush, her eyes bright with emotion, and Harry got the impression she had wanted to say all of that for quite some time. He stared at her incredulously, and after a moment she seemed to suddenly realize what she had said and ducked her head quickly, the tips of her ears reddening to match her hair.  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. He felt as if an enormous weight had lifted from his shoulders, carrying with it the knot that had sat in the pit of his stomach all summer. The burden was still there, but it no longer seemed impossible to bear. Of course he was not alone. He never had been, at that. Harry felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Ginny's words echoed in his head. ILoyalty and love and sacrificeI. Hadn't his loyalty to Dumbledore saved him in the Chamber of Secrets, and his parents' love and sacrifice in both encounters with the Dark Lord? Harry remembered the ghostly forms of Voldemort's victims protecting him as he fled from the graveyard, and suddenly he could see their faces more clearly than he ever had before. Bertha Jorkins, Cedric, his parents-they were all dead, but not gone, and Harry knew, with a bursting inside his chest like warm butterbeer bubbling over, that Ginny was right.   
  
She had let go of his hand and was now standing to leave, much subdued. "I think I'll go to bed," she mumbled to the ground, her face obscured by a tumble of hair.  
  
"Ginny, wait." Harry stood quickly and caught her shoulder as she moved away. But when her eyes lifted to meet his gaze he realized he had no idea what he wanted to tell her. "Er," he hesitated.  
  
Ginny sighed and passed her hand tiredly over her eyes. "Harry, it's very late," she began, turning to leave again. "I think we should go back inside."  
  
Harry let go of her arm, and she started down the path with her shoulders drooping. "Thank you," he said quietly, and Ginny halted in mid-stride. "Thank you," he repeated more loudly as Ginny turned to face him. He took two swift steps toward her and found her hand. "I think you're right," he said slowly. "It's just like what Dumbledore said: we're only as strong as we are united."  
  
Ginny regarded him silently before a soft smile lit her face. "That's right," she said, glancing down at their clasped hands. "We all believe that-Mum, Dad, my brothers, Hermione, and me." She looked up at him earnestly. "You can count on us to fight with you, Harry. Remember that."  
  
"I will," Harry nodded, feeling for the first time that he was ready to meet whatever lay ahead. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome."   
  
They stood smiling at each other for a long moment, until Harry noticed he was still holding Ginny's hand. He dropped it quickly and covered by gesturing up the path to the back door. "We should go in." They walked back to the house in silence and slipped inside, careful not to make noise. At the foot of the stairs Ginny stopped and stood looking up at him.  
  
"I'm going to make some hot chocolate," she whispered. "Do you want some?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, that's all right. I think I better go to bed." Ginny nodded and started for the kitchen. "And Ginny?" he whispered after her. "Thank you."   
  
Ginny smiled. "Goodnight, Harry."  
  
"Goodnight, Ginny," he smiled back. Turning, he crept slowly up the stairs and back into Ron's room. For the first time in many weeks, he fell asleep almost immediately.  
  
  
Author's Note: Does anyone else out there agree this could (should!) happen at some point in the future? I'd like to hear your opinions (hint, hint) about Ginny's "more important role" in Book 5. The next chapter's the last, where we find out if Harry's prepared to go back to Hogwarts.  



	5. The Beginning

AS STRONG AS WE ARE UNITED A Harry Potter fanfic by Winky  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this I would be married to Bill, living at the Burrow and raising my own little redheaded boys. Characters, chapter titles, and other brilliance belong to JKR.  
  
Special thanks to Arabella for her thoughtful comments, and to Dobby for her unique methods of encouragement.  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: THE BEGINNING  
  
When Harry woke the next day the house was still and quiet. Even the ghoul in the attic was silent. Harry lay watching the Chudley Cannons swooping across Ron's ceiling, thinking about his conversation with Ginny and wondering how long it would be before Mrs. Weasley came in to wake them up. But after several minutes the silence was broken by a loud rumble from Harry's stomach, and he decided to go make himself a spot of toast. He was careful not to wake Ron as he pulled on his clothes and tiptoed into the hall, where he could hear muffled snores coming from the twins' room. He picked his way down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step at the bottom, and headed for the kitchen.  
  
Halfway across the living room Harry stopped, his eyes fixed on the couch. Ginny was curled up in one corner, fast asleep, a half-finished mug of cocoa on the table in front of her. Harry moved closer, but she looked so peaceful, with the morning light shining on her face and her lips parted in a soft smile, that he decided against waking her. Absently he bent to brush a coppery lock off her forehead, and Ginny's breath tickled his cheek. Harry froze, his fingers still resting amidst the fine curls at her temple. If he leaned forward just the tiniest bit-  
  
He felt her stir a second before she opened her eyes and abruptly withdrew his hand. "Morning, Ginny," Harry stammered hastily. "I was just about to wake you." He managed a weak smile as Ginny sat up and rubbed her eyes, but his heart was beating wildly against his ribs. Where in the name of Godric Gryffindor had IthatI come from? She was IGinny WeasleyI, after all, his best friend's little sister, even if she had grown rather pretty. Not that he thought so, of course. Yet-  
  
Ginny's voice snapped Harry away from his very confusing thoughts. "What? Oh-yeah, sure," he shrugged. "I'll make tea. No problem." Ginny gave him an odd look as she passed by to go upstairs, and Harry fled to the kitchen with his head in his hands. He was sure his face must be redder than his Quidditch robes. IWhatI had he been thinking?  
  
Luckily Harry was distracted when Ron and the twins came stumbling bleary-eyed into the kitchen a moment later, their shirts only half tucked in, and the rest of the family quickly followed. Hermione and Ginny came down soon after, and there was a great deal of bustle trying to get everyone fed and packed on time. Mr. Weasley and Percy had gotten leave to see their family off, and the Ministry had even provided a couple of cars as a special reward for all their hard work over the past few months. Somehow they managed to squeeze six trunks, two owls, a cat, four broomsticks, and seven people into said cars for the journey to King's Cross Station, which fortunately was much shorter than Harry remembered. He had quite a time getting out of the car while balancing Hedwig's cage, a broom case, and his trunk all at once, and he could see Hermione and the Weasleys struggling as well.  
  
"Hermione!" shrieked Ron, pitching suddenly towards the pavement when Crookshanks streaked between his feet as he stepped out of the car. "Can't you keep that animal out of the way?"  
  
"Sorry, Ron," Hermione gasped breathlessly, catching his arm before he landed in the dirt. "You know Crookshanks hates car trips-I just lost hold of him." She helped Ron straighten up and smoothed the front of his shirt. "Are you all right?"  
  
Ron made an odd, strangled sort of noise. "Fine." He gave a stiff nod and looked away from Hermione's gaze. "Here, let's get your trunk," he said hastily, ducking back into the car.  
  
Harry turned to Ginny, who was smiling broadly at Hermione and her brother as they disappeared together through the magical barrier to platform nine and three-quarters. "Maybe he'll figure things out sooner than we thought," said Harry with a grin.  
  
Ginny shook her head laughingly. "I hope so. It's getting harder not to point out the obvious." She pushed her trolley up next to his and gestured towards the barrier. "Are you ready?"  
  
Harry looked at the metal gate for a moment, thinking of what awaited him on the other side. He took a deep breath and turned back to Ginny with a nod. "Yes," said Harry.  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
Author's Note: Well, that was it (no sequels except Book 5, folks!). However, Dobby has written a companion Ginny POV piece to this, called Let Me In, that you will enjoy if you liked this one. I highly recommend that you all check it out. Also, if you review, please let me know if I'm way off or anywhere near your ideas of what will happen in Book 5-it's fun to see all the different theories that are out there.   



End file.
